


feelings, they can travel too

by CirilEowyn



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Inspired by Florence + the Machine, M/M, Song fic, The Gramaphone (Good Omens), lots of thoughts, not much happening really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirilEowyn/pseuds/CirilEowyn
Summary: The Bentley and the Gramaphone had enough of Crowley and Aziraphale dancing around their feelings and decide to intervene through songs by Florence & the Machine.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	feelings, they can travel too

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest thing I've ever written. It just kept growing, so I'm releasing it now into the wild before it never ends.

After the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t Crowley’s Bentley started to play songs by Florence & the Machine randomly. Not all the time mind you, just when it saw fit. 

For you to understand how that is possible, you should know that ethereal and occult beings unconsciously influence their surroundings. Same as the weather was always perfect in a little village named Tadfield, the places where demons and angels spend most of their time become just a bit magical. Sometimes, if let’s say a Bentley or a gramophone had spent too much time around said ethereal and occult beings, they could become a bit too magical, not to say sentient. 

The first song the Bentley played was “Dog Days Are Over” and okay, it did fit Crowley’s mood on that day and he found himself tapping happily along on the steering wheel, while driving home from a certain bookshop. 

Happiness did hit him like a train on a track after all that running away from hell and heaven had finally ended. And yes, it was painful from time to time, but it also filled him up until he felt like he’d spill his feelings all over Aziraphale’s bookshop if he wasn’t careful. All in all, not a bad choice. He still rolled his eyes at the Bentley though. Just on principle. It returned to Queen afterwards as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  


***

Aziraphale generally did not tend to maudlin moods. He tended to frett and be anxious at inopportune times, but sentimentality was something that usually just skipped him by and looked for another more receptive host.

That changed after nearly-Armageddon. Not right away of course. The high of having avoided the End of the Earth and having successfully tricked Heaven and Hell to get them off their backs had been delicious. After a while though it had morphed into an uneasiness that had not let him enjoy it as much as he would have liked. 

It felt like... not much had changed in the end. 

They were rid of the paperwork and of course free to finally meet in the open, but while Crowley seemed more than happy with that, Aziraphale had this feeling that there should be more. He just couldn’t pinpoint what.

He sat in his armchair, still in a state of soft drunkenness, Crowley had left just a few moments ago, when the gramophone spluttered to life, breaking through his contemplations. A strong female voice belted out the first few lines to a song that he _most definitely_ did not have in his collection. He missed the first few words, but caught up at “ _Sometimes I feel like saying "Lord I just don't care", but you've got the love I need to see me through._ ” 

His thoughts hightailed to Crowley before he could consciously decide not to. He tried to avoid that specific topic, if at all possible. Drums set in, way too modern for his taste. The song actually had a beat to it. Was is that Bebop again? Had Crowley left it here? Still, the voice was beautiful, especially in the parts without any of the instruments.

“ _When food is gone you are my daily meal_ ,” she sang. He didn’t actually need food, but the thought of Crowley sitting across from him sated him… like food did in a way. His presence fed him, gave him energy. 

“ _Time after time I think "Oh Lord, what's the use?"_

_Time after time I think it's just no good_

_Sooner or later in life, the things you love you lose_

_But you've got the love I need to see me through._ ”

Of course he knew Crowley loved him. Even though it was left unspoken, he had always known that Crowley cared for him. It took him longer to realize that Crowley was _in_ love though. It happened in 1941. Time after time the demon had come to his rescue, but in that church, he didn’t just save him from discorporation. He used a miracle to save his books. That was personal. That was love.

In general, angels are supposed to be able to feel love, but there’s usually so much love going around, especially in a big city like London, that it all blends into background noise. That day Aziraphale had actively reached out and Crowley’s love had stopped him in his tracks. Aziraphale had never felt this loved. Of course the Almighty’s love suffused his being, but it was an impersonal encompassing love for all of creation. Crowley’s love was specific, it was pinpointed directly at Aziraphale and no one else. It was undivided, whole.

It sparked a second revelation. 

Love is something that one would suspect an angel to know. After all aren't they beings made of love? Thing is that even though they are supposed to love all of God's creations, they don’t really make the effort most of the time. Even those that work on Earth can’t really be bothered to care for every human being individually. It’s more a feeling of adoration and being proud of what they’re doing as part of humanity than love. After all, it’d be the same as a human loving a butterfly. They’re too short-lived to procure more than fondness and amazement. 

Maybe that’s a bit unfair. Some humans Aziraphale had met over the centuries might have been more like a dear pet. If your pet dies, you'd of course be devastated and cry your heart out, but your life would go on and sooner or later you’d get another pet. But just the thought of Crowley dying feels like the end of the world to Aziraphale. It does not bear contemplating, not even for a moment. 

Which is probably why Aziraphale didn’t notice that _he_ was in love as well for the longest time. With a demon none-the-less. Thinking back it might actually be what humans call love-at-first-sight, but angels aren’t really much into retrospection. Even the ones that care. Realizing he was in love didn’t change anything for Aziraphale at first. He’d been in love for so long, that the feeling had become a part of him. Besides there was no way he could ever act on it. An angel and a demon? Disaster lay that way.

There’s this thing about realization though, it’s harder to ignore. Once you know it’s there, you get reminded of it by seemingly unrelated things. Once you’ve bitten into the apple, there’s no going back to unknowing bliss. In short, it changes your perception in a myriad of tiny ways. Doesn’t matter if you’re an angel or a demon… or human. 

Which is why, when Aziraphale heard of Crowley’s plan to rob a church for holy water, he decided to give it to him instead. He blessed it himself, the holiest indeed, coming from an angel that actually loves. 

It might seem unreasonable (but isn’t that at the heart of being in love?) to hand over the only thing that can eradicate a demon completely. As far as Aziraphale was concerned it was safer to give it to him in a well-sealed thermos than have some humans hand it to him willy-nilly. 

Being in love also means worrying about losing the person (demon) you love. Handing over the holy water Aziraphale could think of nothing else. He had never felt that way before. 

It hurt.

More than Noah, more than Jesus being nailed to a cross, god’s own son, for heaven’s sake.

“You’re going too fast for me, Crowley.” 

He didn’t mean the driving.

The song had ended, but he sat there long into the night, thinking for the first time of new possibilities…did they really have the love to see them through?

  


***

  


Aziraphale was still preparing the tea when Crowley came over to the kitchen counter and stopped right behind him. He could feel the demon’s presence pressing into him, even though Crowley still kept a respectable distance. His aura was thick and dark, but also soft and warm. Definitely not what you’d expect from a demon. It always reminded Aziraphale of heavy but soft duvets and books read at lamplight during the darkest part of the night. 

It felt comfortable. It felt like home.

As Crowley didn’t say anything he turned around to face him. He did not expect the complicated look he found on the demon’s face. He was biting his lower lip, his sharp fangs peeking out, although usually well hidden. He had taken off his glasses. 

He did not look Aziraphale in the eye, instead he seemed to be studying something on the wall behind him. His hands were fidgeting at his sides as if he didn’t know what they were good for.

“What is it, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked gently. The demon’s uneasiness was palpable.

Instead of an answer, Crowley looked up and finally met his eyes. A resolve appeared and then crumbled instantly. For a second Aziraphale’s heart stopped beating in anticipation of _something_. Something he might have been waiting for, but still did not dare to voice, not even in his mind. He raised his arm to reach for Crowley, but quick as his second nature the snake, the demon had stepped away. 

“Sorry, remembered some business. I’ll come around again later,” he said as goodbye and Aziraphale was left alone with two mugs of steaming tea, his mouth open, like a fish out of the water.

While the bell above the door still sounded Crowley’s sudden departure, the gramophone switched on again. The incessant beat of drums and by now a familiar voice came on without warning. This time the angel took note of the lyrics right away. 

“ _I never thought I’d be a killer, but if I can’t drink the water, what else can I do?_ ” she asked accusingly. Aziraphale knew right away that this was about Crowley. He had heard about Ligur’s death by holy water and the association seemed clear as day to him. The next few sentences hammered the point home that these were meant to be Crowley’s thoughts.

“ _Make up your mind. Let me live or let me love you. While you’ve been saving your neck, I’ve been breaking mine for you._ ” 

Aziraphale wanted to be indignant about the accusation, but he knew it was true. He still felt badly about not trusting Crowley in those final days before armageddon. Especially his denial at the bandstand must have hurt the demon badly. To be fair, it had hurt Aziraphale equally if not more, but he’d been the one to deal out that particular blow, so he didn’t feel like he had the right to dwell on it.

He had hoped that their relationship had healed after their stand off against Satan himself and after having literally walked in each-others skin to dupe Heaven and Hell. It had been such a relief. Aziraphale had never felt that free before. The shackles he had worn might not have been as literal as the chain Crowley had worn around his neck, but they had been there nonetheless.

“ _I’d never thought that I’d be facing a sea that’s bluer than the tide. Now my knees are shaking and I can’t look in your eyes._ ”

Were these literally Crowley’s thoughts? It really felt like it. Well aside from the prosey bits. Was that what the silent face-off had been about before Crowley stormed out of the book shop? Had he been trying to make up his mind?

“ _But if you’re gonna make me do it, how’d you want it done? Is it best to sip it slowly? Or drink it down in one?_ ”

Aziraphale’s mind blessedly ignored the possible connotation with the holy water he had handed Crowley. Instead he was reminded of the moment of hope he had felt before Crowley broke off his effort. Had he been waiting for this change in their relationship? He hadn’t come to a concrete conclusion after his latest contemplations. Judging from his reaction, he must have subconsciously made his choice though. He stepped towards the gramophone and removed the needle from the Tchaikovsky that was supposedly playing. 

It felt wrong to hear what Crowley was thinking, even if this might have been some kind of unconscious miracle by the demon. 

He had heard enough.

  


***

  


Aziraphale did not expect the Bentley to be in on the shenanigans. Therefore he was completely unprepared when the by now familiar voice sounded through the car. He froze his expression instantly in an act of self-preservation.

For once he felt like, at least partially, his own thoughts were being aired out into the open. He was not aware of any miracle on either his or Crowley’s side, at least no conscious one. 

“ _And I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind. I can never leave the past behind_ ,” she intoned in that ethereal voice, echoing the thoughts that Aziraphale had been contemplating a few nights before.

“ _I can see no way, I can see now way…_ ” 

That was his fear speaking. He knew that. He turned away from Crowley and looked out of the window to avoid looking at his friend. He dreaded to see his reaction. Instead he saw his own in the reflection of the window. He looked wretched.

The refrain set in, the relentless sound of “ _Shake it Out, Shake it out_ ”, the same way he had been trying to shake himself out of his stupor, still shackled to Heaven in his thoughts by millenia of propaganda.

He realized that he had been waiting for Crowley to make that first step. 

Which was not fair to the demon in the least. Unlike Aziraphale he was unable to feel his love and the angel had tried his best to keep his feelings hidden from his dearest friend. At least half of that had been out of concern for Crowley, to give himself a bit of credit. 

But things had changed. When was the time to do something, if not now, when they were finally free agents?

  


***

  


The second one was a bit of a disaster for Crowley. He was driving to the Ritz with Aziraphale when out of the blue the usual Queen was interrupted by “ _Shake it out_ ”. 

“ _Regrets collect like old friends, here to relive your darkest moments. I can see no way, I can see no way. And the ghouls come out to play and every demon wants his pound of flesh._ ”

Self-consciously the demon dared a peak towards Aziraphale. At first the angel didn’t show any reaction, but after it became more than obvious that Florence was singing Crowley’s innermost thoughts, he turned away to hide the expression on his face. But that wasn’t even the worst part. 

“ _I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart,“ she sang painfully earnest_. 

Crowley frantically started pushing buttons on the radio, but after the refrain the song just continued into “ _I’m ready to suffer, I’m ready to hope_ ” and segued into “ _looking for heaven, for the devil in me, well what the hell, I’m gonna let it happen to me_ ” before the cheerful refrain of “ _Shake It Out_ ” came around again, just as they screeched to a halt in front of the hotel. 

Neither of them mentioned it.

  


***

  


It was so easy to be pulled back into their usual rhythms. Walks in the park, feeding the ducks, going out for lunch and spending the evening in the book shop talking about everything and nothing while getting thoroughly sploshed.

Aziraphale had made a decision, but as an immortal being he didn’t think there was any reason to rush. They had all the time in the world after all. Well, for now at least. So the days went past and turned into weeks and even months. Nothing changed.

Both the Bentley and the gramophone in his bookshop had been well behaved for quite some time. As if they had realized that things had been set in motion and all they had to do was wait.

But it seems they were done waiting. 

Aziraphale felt warm and happy sitting in his usual armchair across from Crowley in the back room of his bookstore when he heard the gramophone splutter to life. He most certainly had not miracled any music to play and Crowley was half asleep on the couch and did not seem aware enough to have done it either.

“ _Ooh woah, ooh woah, ooh woah, that original lifeline. Ooh woah, ooh woah, ooh woah_

_Original lifeline_ ,” it sounded through the bookstore. The voice was _very_ familiar to Aziraphale, even if he had not heard it for some time.

“Crowley, dear, did you put on the music?” Aziraphale asked his friend quietly. He received no reaction, as expected. 

“ _Don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light. Caught in your own creation._

_Look up, look up! It tore you open, and oh, how much_ ,” the ethereal voice intoned with emotion.

It sounded like the song was meant for Crowley, not for him. A pep talk, you could say.

“ _Cause there's a hole where your heart lies, and I can see it with my third eye, and through my touch it magnifies. You pull away, you don't know why_.”

Aziraphale reached out for Crowley’s hand out of some kind of morbid scientific interest. Before he could touch it though, the demon pulled it out of reach, muttering under his breath what sounded like: ” Nononono…!” Well, so much for that. 

“ _You don't have to be a ghost here amongst the living. You are flesh and blood and you deserve to be loved and you deserve what you are given. And oh, how much_.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and with quite a bit of reluctance he reached out to Crowley. He hadn’t done it since 1941. Hadn’t dared out of what he now realized had been blatant insecurity. He had been afraid that Crowley’s feelings had changed, even though the demon had never given him any reason to believe that. 

“ _Cause there's a hole where your heart lies, and I can see it with my third eye, and through my touch it magnifies. You pull away, you don't know why_.”

It was still there. 

Blazing like a lighthouse in the middle of a stormy night. Bright and clear as the sun. Aziraphale felt _so_ loved. He permitted himself to indulge in the feeling for a moment.

Around the edges he suddenly noticed an upheaval. There was darkness creeping in. The brightness flickered, turned into flames, turned into his bookshop on fire. Aziraphale stood among the flames and watched Crowley call out for him in despair. 

“ _Ooh woah, ooh woah, ooh woah, that original lifeline. Ooh woah, ooh woah, ooh woah_ _Original lifeline_ ,” it sounded through the bookstore.

The despair hit Aziraphale like a freight train and catapulted him back into his body. Tears were unconsciously spilling out of his eyes. He had never dared to contemplate what he would do if Crowley died. The closest he had come was when he had handed the demon the holy water. The fear had constricted his breath and had sent his heart beating like a drum. He had turned his usual bowtie into a cravat and opened the top buttons just to be able to breath, before he went to face Crowley that evening. 

The emotion he was experiencing right now, didn’t hold a candle to how he had felt back then. Crowley had thought him dead. 

Not discorporated. 

Gone. 

Forever. 

_“But your pain is a tribute. The only thing you let hold you. Wear it now like a mantle. Always there to remind you.”_

The angel sobbed freely, for the first time understanding what being in love truly meant. The weight it carried. The braveness it needed.

“ _I'm the same, I'm the same, I'm trying to change, I am the same, I'm the same, I'm trying to change, I am the same, I'm the same, I'm trying to change, I am the same, I'm the same, I'm trying to change…_ ” 

He moved across to the couch and sat down next to his friend. Crowley was still dreaming, his face scrunched up in pain. Not a sound escaping him. Gently Aziraphale pulled him into his arms and did something he had never done before. He finally loosed the steel grip on his emotions. He let them flow freely. Foremost his love for Crowley, still covered in so many insecurities that now felt quite insignificant compared to Crowley’s pain.

He had no idea how his aura felt to Crowley, if it felt like the equivalent of home and warm blankets and hot cocoa or something else completely. 

He just hoped it felt like comfort. 

  


*** 

  


Crowley did have bad days. 

When he woke from nightmares of burning bookshops, he had Aziraphale’s name on his lips. On such days he would stay home, intimidate his plants and usually avoid the angel. Usually. Sometimes Aziraphale sounded so excited about a new restaurant he had heard about, that resistance was futile. Crowley did make sure that they’d meet away from the bookshop on these days though. He could feel his own despair imbued in it still. No miracle could change that.

The rain was coming down heavily on this dreary winter evening. Aziraphale had asked Crowley to pick him up at the book shop. He had just arrived, still caught in dark thoughts of fire and the smell of burning books, when the radio turned on even though he’d just switched off the engine. “ _No Light, No Light_ ” started playing. The lyrics hit him from the first sentence. At “ _You are the night time fear_ ”, he held onto the steering wheel so desperately that his knuckles turned white. He released it a moment later at “ _You are the morning when it’s clear, When it’s over you will start, You’re my head, You’re my heart._ ” He took a deep breath. 

“Why are you doing this to me!?” 

There was no reply, instead the refrain came on and at “ _You can’t choose what stays and what fades away_ ”, he just lost it. Deep heaving breaths accompanied his desperate cries of pain released into the night. The rain around him acted like a cocoon, muffling the sounds from inside the car, so he let himself cry. Crowley let the despair of that damned day bleed out of him while humanity passed by in the rain and an angel sat at his desk waiting.

Only for a new kind of despair to appear and bubble to the surface…

“‘ _Cause it’s so easy to say to a crowd, but it’s so hard, my love, to say it to you, my love._ ” 

Fuck it all really. WHY? The song faded out with the last “ _Tell me what you want_ ” and a blessed silence set in. 

“Are you done?”, Crowley remarked driely. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?” He dried the tears on his cheeks and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, consciously. He did feel better now. Catharsis is not usually what demons go for, but then he wasn’t the usual kind of demon. 

He had noticed that lately the pain had lessened a bit. It felt like the wound he’d received that day of the Apocalypse-that-didn’t-happen had started to heal. He could not pinpoint it to any given moment, but his thoughts kept returning to the morning he had woken up on Aziraphale’s coach, covered in a tartan blanket and feeling loved. 

The angel had been puttering around in the small kitchen, two cups of steaming tea ready to go, as if he had known the exact moment Crowley would wake up. Aziraphale had smiled at him and said, “Good morning, love. Cup of tea?” 

Crowley had framed and hung that moment in a prime position in his mind. He still hadn’t gotten used to Aziraphale calling him “love” out of the blue. He’d like to think he’d taken it in his stride, but the angel’s badly hidden amused grin every time spoke against it. That bastard knew exactly what this was doing to him and Crowley loved him even more for it.

A look through the rain running down on the car windows showed him that the bookstore was dark except for a light in the backroom. Aziraphale was probably reading. Waiting for him to come in. They would exchange a few words, maybe get started on the wine and then head out for dinner.

He had a bit of time to compose himself.

Taking deep breaths to calm his human body down he thought of the angel’s smile. It was impossible to think of that smile and not start smiling as well. Just as he reached for the door handle the radio switched on again. A piano started playing and the Bentley launched into “ _Cosmic Love_ ”. Crowley froze mid-move.

“ _A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes_ ”, Florence sang into the night, “ _I screamed aloud as it tore through them, and now it’s left me blind._ ” 

“Haven’t we just gone through that already?”, the demon demanded of his obviously demonic car.

“ _No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight. In the shadow of your heart,_ ” the Bentley replied through a certain red-headed singer.

Crowley just grabbed the steering wheel and started hitting his head against it.

What he didn’t know though was that inside the bookstore the same song started playing from an old gramophone that stood facing the entrance. Aziraphale came out of the backroom to see who had turned it on and saw the Bentley parked outside. With Crowley hitting his head against the wheel. His eyes were sharper then he let on. His glasses had no prescription in them and were just for show.

He walked towards the door and realized that he could hear the song in stereo now. Coming from his old device as well as Crowley’s car.*

*It’s not that it was playing so loudly really, as the rain was drowning out most of the outside noises. It was more the magic that the Bentley had imbued into it, luring the angel towards it.

“ _I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map and I knew that somehow I could find my way back,_ ” the gramophone intoned urgently. Aziraphale had a vivid memory of touching Earth in heaven and thinking with all his soul of Crowley. 

He had appeared right across from him in a pub in Holborn. Back then he hadn’t understood why Crowley was in such despair. Aziraphale hadn't known that his bookshop had burned down and the demon had thought him dead. Only afterwards, when he was free of heaven’s heavy hand, had he let himself remember that moment and what it had actually meant for Crowley. And himself. Only recently had he really come to understand Crowley’s pain.

He would have joined Crowley in his body right then and there if he hadn't still been brainwashed by heaven’s propaganda about demons. Realizing that they were of the same stock, and that there was nothing stopping him from possessing a human, was still a wide step away from possessing the body of a demon. He had felt Crowley’s heart skip a beat when he voiced his thoughts. There was a moment of uncertainty, before the drunk demon discarded that idea as well. Hell’s propaganda wasn’t much behind in that regard.

The refrain of the song started up again. Crowley was slumped over the steering wheel and not moving. Aziraphale made up his mind and stepped out into the rain. A split second of doubt froze his hand when he reached for the handle of the Bentley, but the door swung open of its own accord. Without missing a beat “ _Shake It Out_ ” came on again. 

Crowley groaned and looked up to see Aziraphale standing in the door and looking down on him. The rain had soaked the angel’s curls in the few moments it had taken him to cross the curb to the car. The neon lights of the restaurant across the street reflected in a myriad of colors on the rain drops caught in it. He looked more angelic and unreachable than ever looking down on him like that.

Aziraphale sat down and closed the door. The song kept on playing.

They didn’t look at each-other. Resolutely staring out the windscreen. At “ _well what the hell_ ” Aziraphale finally looked up, decision made, and reached across the space between them. He grabbed Crowley’s lapels and pulled him up and into a very awkward kiss. Florence launched into the refrain and the whole situation just dissolved into ridiculousness.

Crowley was the first to start laughing and shortly after Aziraphale joined him. The laughter shook them as they held onto each-other, neither letting go. The warm air of their breaths mingled between them. The Bentley waited patiently for the laughter to subside. 

Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s glasses and folded them together before putting them on the dashboard. Tears of laughter were still sitting in the corners of their eyes as they looked at each-other, matching smiles on their faces. Aziraphale reached out for Crowley’s cheek and softly moved his thumb across it. The demon leaned into it, closing his eyes. 

“We really made a mess of this,” Aziraphale said, the amusement still echoing in his voice, ”if your car and my gramophone had to start an intervention for us.” Crowley opened his eyes again, soft with the same love that freely showed in the angel’s.

This time the demon moved in for a kiss. 

For once there was blissful silence.

  


***

  


“She does have an angelic voice,” Aziraphale stated as Florence once again popped up on the Bentley’s unconnected audio system. The car seemed to have taken a liking to her music.

“Well, she’s definitely one of ours though,” Crowley replied without a second thought, while still concentrating on the road. It was raining again and traffic in central London was hell reincarnated.

“You mean, she’s perfectly human?” the angel stated nonplussed, but a smile appeared on his face. The demon turned to look at his friend with a smile tucking at the corner of his lips as well. He saw what Aziraphale had done, a reminder that they were on their own side now, together with the humans.

“Quite right,” Crowley replied.

He bent over for a kiss that deepened instantly, but before soon the concert of horns behind him grew too loud to ignore. A quick miracle opened up the road and they were gone like the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley obviously knows Florence & the Machine and therefore states the titles. Aziraphale doesn't, but it's easy enough to find the songs with the lyrics ;)  
> If you find any typos or if something sounds off, please let me know. I'm open to concrit!


End file.
